Sands of Time

O hourglass, you yet yield your youth to each moment,

measuring, though the sands cannot be willed to any different tempo.

Despite men's many attempts, you reveal all the reasons we

so forsake the reasons we cherish time.

The young who yearn to surrender seasons gain gateways in later life,

only to look upon squandered sands of months misused.

Those that seek seconds,

mere seconds,

of thrills thus squander the sinking sediments.

Caress each stroke of the clock;

this moment will never happen in the history of humankind

once more.

Still! You yet yield your sands to the impudent, imprudent,

and those that abuse.

You give me passage to my next breath,

following step,

and all which I fail to find frail.

We harness waters and winds,

but never you.

Vague and barely tangible,

you elude us all,

imparting freely what we have conceived

is only obtained by theft.

You persist into perpetuity,

entangling all things and binding mountains;

enlightening me that though this hour comes but once,

thrive in it.

Disaster dissapates as undoubtedly

the frame gently tips

time anew.

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remaining Amari